


A Moment in Time

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Drama, Fantasy on Ice, M/M, Post-Break Up, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 09:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19148704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: Stéphane has never really looked at Yuzu and seen anything but his bubbly darling of a friend. This year is different, though. This year, Yuzu is looking back.





	A Moment in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who was in support of me trying my hand at this ship! 
> 
> There is some French tossed in - find the translation in the end notes.
> 
> There might, or might not, be a sequel to this.

Fantasy on Ice has always sort of been Yuzuru’s show, at least since he became Japan’s rising superstar and darling. But this year is different. Stéphane can tell.

 

This year,  _ Yuzu _ is different and  _ everyone _ is noticing, looking at him, fascinated by the transformation from a young, albeit determined boy to the seemingly lethal menace of a man he has become over the course of this past season. 

 

_ Stéphane _ certainly is noticing. Truth be told, he has been for a few years now, inevitably drawn by the incredible talent, power and spirit that somehow reside within the slender frame of Yuzu’s body. It had always been a gaze of quiet admiration, an appreciation of Yuzu’s androgynous beauty, even, but almost entirely innocent in essence.

 

Despite his age and his legendary status in skating, Yuzu had always seemed a kid to Stéphane, a youth to be befriended and showered with laughter and affection when they were in a show together. 

 

Besides, it had been obvious to anyone in his vicinity that Yuzu only had eyes for one person and one person only. Javi had been the center around which Yuzu seemed to orbit for as long as Stéphane can remember. 

 

Now, for the first time, Stéphane looks at Yuzu and sees the virile glory of him, his new-found maturity apparent in the way he moves across the ice, the way he commands attention - the audience’s, his fellow skaters’, the musicians - like never before. 

 

More interestingly still, Stéphane notices that if there is one person who seems to resist the gravitational pull of Yuzu’s charisma, it is Javi. Javi, whose hands and looks and smiles used to be all over Yuzu, is keeping to his troupe of ‘Flamenco on Ice’ performers, maintaining careful distance. As for Yuzu, his eyes stray to Javi regularly, but the glances are brief, and always followed by a frown and a minute shake of the head. 

 

Still, Stéphane chooses not to dwell on things, and decides instead to just enjoy the show. He allows himself to linger on Yuzu’s lithe form and to marvel at the weightless triple Axels - the very jump that used to be the bane of Stéphane’s existence as easy as breathing to Yuzu. He studies the alluring blend of vulnerability and strength of Yuzu’s Ina Bauers, the play of his muscles as he strokes around the rink like a lion on a prowl. There's nothing wrong with looking, Stéphane decides. Yuzu is the frontliner here, after all, and watching the brightest star of the show is not only understandable - it is expected. 

 

The problem arises when, in one of the practices preceding the first Sendai show, Stéphane catches Yuzu looking back. 

 

It is not the friendly, twinkling look Stéphane is accustomed to from all his previous interactions with Yuzu. No. It is the full trademark Yuzuru Hanyu glare he has seen from the sidelines at various competitions. The brunt of it makes Stéphane shiver in his sleeveless top, even though it is fairly warm at the rink. It’s not only the intensity that shakes Stéphane, though. It is a look he  _ knows _ . He has seen it on other men, men at clubs, men he’s been with, and men whose advances he has rejected. It is an appraising look, the way Yuzu’s eyes flick down Stéphane’s body before he raises them again. It is a look of a conqueror checking out his next target, and when Yuzu smirks the tiniest bit before gliding away again, Stéphane feels like he’s been scorched by a flame. 

 

“Have Javi and Yuzu broken up?” 

 

It’s Johnny, coming to a stop by his side, looking after Yuzu’s retreating form. 

 

Stéphane inhales in an attempt to still his suddenly rapid heartbeat. “Were they ever officially together?” he asks and watches Johnny roll his eyes dramatically. 

 

They share a laugh and Stéphane feels himself relax, at least until Johnny says: 

 

“He’s been looking at you.” The words are quiet and void of the usual sing-song affectuation Johnny uses when he’s being playful. 

 

Stéphane swallows thickly. “He’s a baby,” he forces himself to say. 

 

“Baby’s grown up,” Johnny comments with a meaningfully raised eyebrow. “Just saying.” He pats Stéphane on the arm and skates off. 

 

*

 

Baby has grown up, indeed, Stéphane thinks as he watches Yuzu perform day after day. 

 

The cocky smirks, the teasing smiles, the way Yuzu deliberately - it has to be on purpose, Stéphane refuses to believe Yuzu is that oblivious! - reveals bits of alabaster skin to the hungry audience here and there. It’s tantalizing, teasing, and it is sexy. 

 

Try as he might, Stéphane is not immune. 

 

But then they take pictures together - him, Yuzu, and Johnny - and Yuzu is back to being the bubbly sweetheart Stéphane is used to. Could he have been imagining things? Stéphane feels ridiculous, foolish. He is 34, wiser - he likes to think - and way beyond his years of lightning fast crushes that used to spring inside his heart when a cute boy as much as smiled at him. He should not be so confused by a kid ten years his junior. 

 

Stéphane spends the night scolding himself. Still, a part of him wonders - what are the chances of Yuzu fooling both him AND Johnny? If anyone is skilled at spotting even the subtlest of advances from a man, it is his friend. Could they both be misinterpreting the looks Yuzu has been tossing Stéphane’s way in practice? 

 

*

Johnny and him were not wrong. It happens after the first show in Kobe - the first one without Javier, Stéphane’s mind supplies unhelpfully. 

 

Stéphane is in the bathroom adjoining the men’s changing room at the arena. He’s probably already missed the first of the two shuttles that take the skaters back to their hotel, the one most of his fellow performers have taken. He’s just about done removing his stage make-up, ready to wrap up and leave, when the door creaks open and Yuzu steps through. 

 

He’s still wearing one of the official Fantasy on Ice t-shirts, probably only just back from another series of interviews. He looks tired - they all are, after a show - but dangerously attractive, all cutting cheekbones and disheveled hair. 

 

He stands beside Stéphane and locks eyes with him in the mirror. 

 

“I like you,” Yuzu says matter-of-factly, with the air of a man used to getting his way. What else could you expect from a two-time Olympic champion and the best there’s ever been, though? Stéphane assumes that whatever Yuzu wants, Yuzu gets. 

 

Still, he tries to withstand the temptation and the power of that all-penetrating gaze. 

 

“I like you too, Yuzu. We’re friends,” he says lightly. His voice rises a notch on the last word, betraying him. 

 

Yuzu’s reflection in the mirror smirks, a teasing lift of one corner of his lip that makes his cheek dimple. 

 

“Can be friends with benefits,” he tells Stéphane, unflinching. Stéphane feels himself flush at the thought. “If you want,” Yuzu shrugs then, casual, easy, as if he wasn’t aware of what he is doing to Stéphane. As if he didn’t know he’s already won. 

 

“Are you - ?” Stéphane stammers. He feels like an idiot - he should be the one with the upper hand here, what with being many years Yuzu’s senior, but his years of experience seem to account to nothing faced with this man who seems both innocent and yet so startlingly intense, uncompromising. “Are you sure?” he finally manages, proud of himself for at least trying to be sensible instead of giving in to the urge to reach fo Yuzu and get a taste of those impossibly plump lips right this instant. 

 

Yuzu chuckles. He reaches into his pocket and then for Stéphane’s hand. He presses a plastic keycard into his palm. 

 

“669,” Yuzu says, keeping their hands clasped together longer than strictly necessary. “If you want.” 

 

With that, Yuzu smiles, and leaves. 

 

*

 

Stéphane  _ does _ want. He'd be crazy not to. There are few men as enticing to him as Yuzuru. 

 

Besides, Stéphane actually  _ likes _ Yuzu – they get along, they make each other laugh, Yuzu truly has a heart of gold. It is impossible not to adore him. Maybe that is why it takes Stéphane surprisingly long to decide on his course of action. The gentle affection he feels towards the younger man makes him hesitate - he doesn’t want to lose that warm rapport. 

He is only human, though. And that is how he finds himself in front of room 669, freshly showered and wearing a clean white tee and comfortable black pants, more nervous that he has felt in a while.  _ Get a grip _ , he tells himself, and takes a deep breath. 

He knocks and waits, not quite bold or brazen enough to just swipe the keycard without any forewarning, even though that is what Yuzu had been implying when he gave it to him.

“Come in,” comes Yuzu’s voice from inside. 

 

Stéphane swallows all his remaining doubt and lets himself in.

Yuzu is sitting on the bed, wearing what Stéphane assumes must be his sleeping attire – a baby blue t-shirt that seems a little too big for him, and cottony striped shorts that end mid-thigh, giving Stéphane a glimpse of the strong muscles of Yuzu’s legs. His bare feet are dangling off the bed. It makes him look strangely vulnerable to Stéphane - the sight of his toes, the lack of his customary black attire.

“Hi,” Yuzu smiles, a completely different smile than what Stéphane is used to – a predatory one, almost. There is certainly nothing vulnerable about the look he gives Stéphane, those dark eyes traveling the length of his body oh so slowly. Stéphane feels like he’s being undressed with that gaze alone.  “Happy you came,” Yuzu informs him, licks his lips, and pets the spot beside him on the bed.

“Yeah, so am I,” Stéphane says lamely. He thought they’d talk, maybe, laugh together like they do in other situations, but just like always, Yuzu seems to be a man on a mission. He should have expected it, really. It’s not like Yuzuru Hanyu to waste time on trivialities. 

He moves to sit next to Yuzu, acutely aware of Yuzu’s fresh, clean scent. The moment he sits down, though, Yuzu hops up, startling him. “Wait, where are you –“ He doesn’t finish, because Yuzu climbs into his lap, straddling him, and buries his hands in his hair to tip his head back. Then Yuzu’s lips are on his, warm and softer even than Stéphane imagined.

 

Stéphane lets out a moan and grabs Yuzu’s waist, so slim he’d be afraid of hurting Yuzu if he didn’t know how strong Yuzu actually is, has to be to whip out quads and axels just like that. He pulls Yuzu closer, and it’s Yuzu’s turn to gasp softly into Stéphane’s mouth when their hips grind together for the first time.

Stéphane takes the opportunity to lick inside Yuzu’s mouth, minty and moist. It feels so good to be kissing someone – it has been a while, perhaps too long, Stéphane realizes. It feels twice as good because Yuzu is eager, and beautiful, and responds so keenly to every tiny bite and flick of tongue, teasing Stéphane in kind.

Stéphane lets his hands roam under Yuzu’s shirt, feeling smooth warm skin, brushing along Yuzu’s sides with his fingertips. Yuzu shivers under his touch, goosebumps springing up on his skin. He mewls in disapproval when Stéphane removes his hands for a second.

Stéphane smiles and only slides his palms down, lower, squeezing Yuzu’s ass to increase the friction between them. They’re both hard already, and Stéphane doesn’t think he can stand this much longer, all these layers of fabric. 

“Want to undress for me?” he coaxes in between kisses, meeting Yuzu’s heated gaze. They’re so close their noses are touching, breath mingling, and Yuzu nods. He slides off Stéphane’s lap and stands up.

Stéphane gets a glimpse of the delicious bulge in Yuzu’s shorts, but then his eyes are drawn to Yuzu’s chest as Yuzu starts pulling off his shirt, his movements too slow not to be a deliberate tease. He's putting on a show and Stéphane loves it, feeling privileged to be witnessing this private version of the spectacle that is Yuzuru Hanyu. 

 

Shirt discarded, Yuzu hooks his fingers under the waistband of his shorts and slides them down.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Stéphane whispers as he lets his eyes roam the length of his body – the perfect porcelain skin dotted with just a few solitary freckles here and there, lean muscles everywhere, the delicious curve of Yuzu’s hips and ass, the jutting out hip-bone and, just below, Olympic rings etched into his skin in black ink.

Yuzu’s figure reminds Stéphane of Johnny a little, a younger Johnny from that time in their early twenties when they were a couple for a brief period. But for all his flamboyant bravado he put on for the public, Johnny had always been unexpectedly shy in the bedroom. Johnny had always been… both a little too much in some ways, too dramatic, while too restrained and mellow in others, especially when it came to their intimate encounters. It was, Stéphane suspects, one of the many reasons why things never really worked out between them.

Not that he expects anything to  _ work out _ with Yuzu, because that’s not what this is about. Still, he loves the way Yuzu stands in front of him bold and unashamed, full of the same blazing confidence with which he carries himself on the ice. 

“Come here,” Stéphane says. Yuzu shocks him by tipping his head to the side and  _ not _ moving at all.

“Can you speak in French?” Yuzu says and smiles coyly.

Stéphane blinks at the unexpected request. Then he grins. “ _ Je vois comment c’est, maintenant. Tu veux que je te parle salement, mon cher? C’est ce que tu veux? Viens ici, alors et découvrons ce que tu aimes d’autre… _ ”*

He watches as Yuzu’s mouth falls open a fraction at the words, drinks in the way Yuzu’s eyes become a little unfocused, like he’s being carried away by the unfamiliar syllables.

 

Stéphane beckons with his fingers, and this time, Yuzu comes meekly, sinking down onto his lap once again. Yuzu grabs the bottom hem of Stéphane’s t-shirt and pulls it over his head, running slender hands over his chest. His eyes fall shut and he sighs softly, hands moving over Stéphane’s shoulders, down his arms.

Stéphane settles his hands back against Yuzu’s ass, squeezing gently. He kisses that long neck, then traces the same path with his tongue. He explores further, leaning down to suck one pink nipple into his mouth, then the other.

“Come on, let’s move,” he says, in English, so that Yuzu can understand him. Yuzu’s eyes snap open and he looks at Stéphane, slightly dazed for a moment. An infinitesimal shake of his head, and then he nods in agreement. He climbs off of Stéphane, rolling onto his back on the bed. 

 

Stéphane takes in the view, the glorious expanse of Yuzu’s body on display. It’s been a while since he’s been with a man, but he remembers each one of his lovers. Many have been truly handsome, athletes with sculpted bodies. But he doesn’t think he’s ever slept with anyone quite like this, all perfectly balanced androgyny, a blend of fragility and strength. Stéphane is torn between wanting to ruin Yuzu until he's screaming his throat raw in pleasure, and wanting to protect him, cradle him in his arms and make him fall apart slowly, sweetly. 

 

He shucks off his own pants before he lies down next to Yuzu, resting on his side to press a short kiss to Yuzu’s lips. He then continues his trail down Yuzu’s body, kissing all over – his chest, his stomach, his belly-button. He kisses the tattoo under Yuzu’s hip, traces it with his tongue. Yuzu lets out a small whimper at that, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Are you okay?” Stéphane asks and places his palm onto Yuzu’s belly, soothing. 

 

Yuzu just nods and opens his eyes again, looking at Stéphane from under those velvety lashes. He looks a little disheveled, lips swollen from all their kissing and hair in disarray. Perhaps a little distant, like his mind has wandered off during Stéphane’s ministrations, but otherwise he looks fine, calm. 

 

Stéphane exhales in relief and brushes a careful hand along Yuzu’s length, keeping his touch feather-light. He wants to taste him, lavish him in all the best sensations. “Can I –?” he asks, pointing with his chin.

“Hai,” Yuzu breathes, reaching out to run a hand through Stéphane’s hair, tugging a little.

Stéphane smiles and leans down, taking Yuzu in deep in one smooth motion.

Yuzu curses, or Stéphane thinks he does – he’s not exactly proficient in Japanese. The hand in his hair tightens, though, and he takes that to be a good sign. He hums around Yuzu, pleased by the moan that escapes from Yuzu’s mouth at that.

He sucks and teases for a while, swallowing nearly all of Yuzu’s length before pulling almost all the way off, letting his tongue swirl over the head. When he tastes the telltale salt of pre-come, though, he pulls away.  

Yuzu whines, pulling at Stéphane’s hair in earnest.

_ “Not yet, darling, don’t be impatient _ ,” Stéphane admonishes in French and slides his hands under Yuzu’s hips to flip him over.

Yuzu yelps in surprise, then shifts a little against the bed. Stéphane smiles. He must feel sensitive now, pressed against the mattress like that.

Stéphane runs his hands up Yuzu’s thighs, presses into the muscles gently, and Yuzu groans in appreciation. It feels good, Stéphane knows, it always feels good to get a bit of a massage that is not excruciating like the sports ones they’re all accustomed to. He kneads at Yuzu’s buttocks briefly, then his back, his shoulders. Little by little, the last remnants of tension seem to seep out of Yuzu, and he’s just lying there, cheeks pink and his lips forming a perfect glistening O, eyes closed. 

Stéphane desperately wants to fuck him, but he ignores his own erection and kisses along Yuzu’s spine, vertebrae after vertebrae. 

“Do you like this?” he asks when he arrives at Yuzu’s tailbone. He presses a small kiss there, too, then lets his tongue slide experimentally into the hollow between Yuzu’s cheeks. 

“Mhm,” comes the muffled answer and Yuzu’s hips lift a fraction, coming up suggestively. 

 

Stéphane  smiles, pleased. He looks up to see Yuzu swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I like,” Yuzu adds then, voice a little rough around the edges, as if it wasn’t already clear as day that he wants this, too. 

“ _ Good. I want to taste all of you, _ ” Stéphane tells him and pulls his cheeks apart with his hands. He lets his tongue feather over Yuzu’s opening, making Yuzu quiver with teasing licks. He flattens his tongue and presses it against Yuzu, warm and solid, and Yuzu moans so sweetly it makes Stéphane’s head spin a little. He pushes inside and feels Yuzu’s muscles clench at the breach, then relax as he licks and laves just inside the rim.

It’s a heady sensation, having Yuzu writhe and sweat and fall apart for him. It’s also torturous, because Yuzu’s not the only one in desperate need of  _ more,  _ and it takes every ounce of Stéphane’s self-control not to give in when Yuzu asks for  _ more, now, please. _

“Stéphane!” Yuzu snaps eventually, his voice strained and quaking, but commanding all the same. 

“Where’s your lube?” Stéphane asks because he needs this, too, but mostly because he has come here determined to give Yuzu whatever he wants.

Yuzu somehow musters the strength to sit up. He nods towards the bedside table, sitting back on his heels, knees spread wide, while he waits for Stéphane to retrieve lube and condom from the drawer. To his surprise, Yuzu snatches the lube out of his hands when Stéphane comes back to sit next to him. 

“I do it. Is faster,” he informs Stéphane with a wink.  Where is all this sass coming from now, Stéphane wonders. He could have sworn Yuzu was quite boneless after all of the attention he has bestowed upon him.  _ Never underestimate Yuzuru Hanyu _ , Stéphane reminds himself of the mantra he’s heard some of the coaches and officials mutter to each other backstage, usually just after Yuzu has decimated all competition with yet another display of his mastery. 

Then Yuzu is sliding his fingers inside his own body and all Stéphane can do is watch in fascination, his own lust stirring madly inside his loins. It is fast, and efficient, he has to admit – Yuzu clearly knows himself well. Yuzu’s eyes flutter closed briefly and he looks momentarily lost in pleasure as he rocks against his own fingers – three, by now, if Stéphane is not mistaken. 

 

Then Yuzu comes back to reality. He opens his eyes and slides his hand out, wiping it off on the sheets. Stéphane is almost disappointed. Yuzu looked otherworldly pleasuring himself, back arched and ass jutting out almost obscenely to be able to reach better. Now there is something unreadable in his expression, and it sobers Stéphane up. He wants to ask again if Yuzu really wants to do this, but Yuzu is already busying himself with the condom, rolling it down onto Stéphane. His hands feel so good against his swollen flesh, untouched until now, that Stéphane forgets everything else. He almost wants to just rut wildly into Yuzu’s palm and be done with it.

 

“How do you want to do this?” he asks instead. 

 

Yuzu smiles and pushes Stéphane back until he’s lying down. Then he climbs on top of him to finish lubing him up.

“Like this,” Yuzu says and positions himself astraddle his hips. He sinks down slowly, taking his time. Stéphane has to stop himself from grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, faster. Yuzu is tight around him, gorgeously so, and Stéphane closes his eyes for a moment, a last defense against the onslaught of sensations.

Then Yuzu starts moving, a slow, rhythmic ride, setting Stéphane’s every nerve on fire. He’s beautiful as he fucks himself on Stéphane’s dick, eyes squeezed shut and his head tossed back, exposing the milky curve of his neck like in one of his Ina Bauers. He picks up the pace bit by bit as he grows comfortable, palms flat on Stéphane’s chest to support himself. Stéphane meets his thrusts, fingers digging into Yuzu’s hips as he does so. 

Yuzu’s breath becomes ragged and so do his movements, his chest flushed, his neck beaded with sweat. He arches his lower back a little, seeking a better angle and clearly finding it, because the sound that rips out of his throat next is animalistic and raw.

“ _ You’re so good, I want to fuck you all night and make you come over and over again – “  _ Stéphane begins, the words in his native tongue now beyond conscious control, just spilling out.

Yuzu clamps a hand over his mouth, though, silencing him, surprising him yet again.

The rhythm is erratic now and Stéphane snaps his hips up viciously, although he is struggling for breath with his mouth still covered. He reaches for Yuzu’s dick, stroking him, and it doesn’t take long for Yuzu to trash and shudder violently on top of him.

“ _ Javi _ .” It is a broken gasp that escapes from Yuzu’s mouth the second he comes, spilling himself onto Stéphane’s belly. 

It would be a lie to say Stéphane is not a little disappointed, even though he is not exactly surprised. But it doesn’t even matter, not now, not when Yuzu is spasming all around him, so stunning in his ecstasy. 

Stéphane thrusts upwards a few more times, desperate for his own climax. Then he’s coming inside Yuzu, white blinding pleasure licking at him from toes to fingertips, while Yuzu is braced against his chest, barely holding himself up on his forearms now. 

He lies down limply as the pleasure fades to mere aftershocks. He sinks into the mattress, spent and sated, and Yuzu shifts, sliding off of him, then collapses down next to him. 

Stéphane absentmindedly disposes of the condom, then wraps his arms around Yuzu’s torso, pulling him closer. That’s when he notices the way Yuzu’s breath is hitching, the tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes even though he’s squeezing his eyelids shut to keep himself from crying. 

“Hey, hey, Yuzu,” he coos, lifting his hands to Yuzu’s face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuzu mumbles and wipes at his tears furiously, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Shush, it’s okay, don’t be sorry,” Stéphane soothes, mind racing. He’s pretty sure he has not hurt Yuzu, so that is not the source of this anguish. “I got you,” he says, rubbing soothing circles into Yuzu’s back as he embraces him. “Are you okay? Can I do anything?”

“Sorry,” Yuzu mutters once again. “I’m okay. Is just a lot – lot of feeling,” he manages. “I have not – has been a while.”

“Alright,” Stéphane says, wishing he could help, somehow. But if this is what he suspects it is, then he’s afraid there’s not much he can do. He kisses Yuzu’s temple and holds him close until his breathing evens out a little. Then he asks, quietly: “Did – Javi and you – did he leave?”

Yuzu takes a breath, and for a moment, Stéphane is afraid he might start weeping again. He doesn’t. Instead, he opens his eyes and looks at Stéphane. The dark pools are red-rimmed, but steady. “Yes,” he says and his face hardens. “Javi wanted  _ normal _ life,” he adds and Stéphane sees it, the anger raging within Yuzu, the scorn, the desperation. It looks beautiful when on display on the ice, the power and intensity of Masquerade enough to make many a spectator scream, but Stéphane sees the raw ache behind the spectacle now. 

 

He shakes his head.

He’d been there, of course, dumped by boyfriends several times. It was either that they had little understanding for the demands of competitive skating, the way it occupied 90% of Stéphane’s time and about the same of his mental space – but Javi would know that, he would be familiar with the brutal regimen the sport requires. Or – and that was worse – Stéphane's exes were not comfortable with themselves, with the implications of being in a gay relationship.

“He’ll regret it very soon,” he tells Yuzu, and he means it. Yuzu nods, but Stéphane can tell he’s not really convinced. It takes time to see the actual truths of a break-up and to stop asking yourself what  _ you _ did wrong, though, so Stéphane decides not to press it.

“Thank you,” Yuzu whispers a few moments later. “I need this. Do you feel bad? Used?”

Stéphane blinks at him. “What are you talking about?” he shakes his head. “Yuzu, look at me.” He grabs Yuzu’s chin and makes him look up until they’re face to face. “This was great for me. I’m glad if I made you feel better. I’m – honored, really,” he laughs a little. “Thank you for trusting me. For letting me… have you.” He knows he doesn’t really have Yuzu, didn’t have him except perhaps for a few brief moments, because it is now evident Yuzu’s head and heart have been somewhere else completely, with someone else.  But it is enough for Stéphane. “I had fun. You’re incredible, remember that, okay?” He presses a quick kiss to Yuzu’s lips, a chaste one – he can’t help but feel like things have shifted between them now, and that anything more than that would be inappropriate.

Yuzu sighs in acquiescence. He allows Stéphane to clean him up with damp towel, and lays his head against Stéphane’s chest when Stéphane comes back to bed. Stéphane holds him, feeling for the younger man. He wants to go punch Javi in the nose, but that would not achieve anything. Javi needs to pull his own head out of his ass. So instead, he just lets Yuzu rest, threading his hand gently through his jet-black hair.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks softly when he feels his own limbs grow heavy, his head woozy with sleepiness.

“No, stay. Don’t want to be alone.”

Stéphane nods and lets sleep take him, the warm form of Yuzu next to him both wonderful and a little terrifying. Stéphane should know better, and he is determined to never let Yuzu see the surprising swirl of emotions inside his chest. He’ll be a safe haven for his friend, a shoulder to lean on, and nothing else. But deep inside, Stéphane feels… jealous. Javi doesn’t deserve Yuzu, he thinks. It is scariest thing he has felt in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> French translation: * "I see how it is, now. You want me to talk dirty to you, sweet one? Is that what you like? Come here, then, and let’s find out what else you like."
> 
> Thank you for reading bad please do not hesitate to let me know what you think! <3


End file.
